What 'Stop the Presses' Really Means
by Twig2
Summary: The REAL strike, but POV a fictional character. Originally written for my school's "LitMag" this isn't chaptered.


_AN: Everyone in this story was real and belonged to themselves, except for Pierce and Collin who are mine. All of the events, some of the quotes, and a few specific details were real, too. Oh, and I just want to say thanks SOOO much to Newspaper Annie for getting me so interested in the real strike and for the references to places with good information._

"Get up! Get up! Make some money!"

Pierce O'Conner rolled over on his bed, ignoring the usual wake up call and trying to remember what he had been dreaming of. The dream seemed important. Something about the adults shrinking, or was it the boys had been growing?

"C'mon, we gots ta see how the headlines are," a boy named Collin said as he shook Pierce out of his thoughts.

"Awright, awright. Just get off!"  Pierce pushed his friend away and started to get dressed, putting the dream in the back of his mind. The morning of July 19, 1899 went on as normal at The Duane Street Newsboy Lodging House. Fighting for room to wash, then racing out into the streets to sell newspapers to _try and make a living._

During the Spanish-American war the price of newspaper had gone up. Instead of 5 cents for 10 papers, it cost 6 cents, but that was nothing when you were selling over 300 papers a day with news on the war.  And, after the war, all of the newspapers put the prices back down where they had been… except for The World and The Journal, the two biggest papers in New York City, run by the two biggest newspaper men. Joseph Pulitzer and William Randolph Hearst. They refused to drop the price of their papers and the newsboys like Pierce and Collin were really starting to feel that extra cent now that the news was slow.

"Hiya, Pierce," Collin shouted down the street at around 1'o'clock. Pierce turned and waved. He hadn't sold many papers that morning and couldn't afford to go to Von Werdt's for lunch like the boys had planned, but Collin didn't look like he was thinking about food.

"What's goin' on?" Pierce asked when Collin came up to him.

"Ya know Morris Cohen? He sells over in City Hall Park an' he's callin' all of the newsies together," Collin answered immediately. "Somethin's up, I know it. He's real mad 'bout the prices stayin' up."

The boys ran right to the south end of Manhattan and into the park. There were already a ton of newsboys there and Pierce and Collin had to fight to get up front. Morris and Kid Blink, called this because he wore a patch over his blind eye, were sitting on a statue talking to each other while Racetrack Higgins, naturally he got his name from spending so much time at the track, and eleven year old Boots McAleenan tried to listen in on their conversation.

"Quiet down, everyone!" Morris had to yell to be heard, but as soon as he spoke, the park was silent. "How many of ya are sick of Pulitzer and Hearst walkin' all over us? I say, they've gotta respect us workin' boys!" That went over well with the crowd. "We should do somethin' 'bout it! We gots ta go on strike!" Pierce wasn't expecting this and was a little shocked for a moment. A strike? Could it actually work?

It was decided that, if the prices weren't lowered by the next day, the strike would be on. The boys knew they had to be organized. David Simmons was elected president of the union, and Kid Blink and Morris Cohen were the strike leaders. News of the strike soon spread all across New York City. Spot Conlon, the leader of the Brooklyn newsies, joining the strike was big news. He was known for being a fierce fighter.

"That Spot Conlon must make even you a little nervous, huh, Pierce?" Collin commented later.

"You kiddin'? The guy wears pink 'spenders!" Pierce replied. But Collin knew his friend was just as scared of Spot as he was.

Most of the newsboys refused to buy papers the next day, but when some boys did buy, the rest attacked them. The fight went on until police were called in to take control. For days police stood near the scabs when they started selling, protecting them from the strikers. Soon a newsboy named Mush, because he and his girl were known to get a little mushy, figured a way to get the police away. One newsie would distract the officer while the others handled the scab.

"Ya see all them, Collin?" Pierce whispered in awe. They were at the door of Irving Hall on July 24.

"I see 'em," Collin whispered back. "There must be 2000 o' us in here… an' another 3000 outside!"

"How'd Race 'range all this?" Was the first thing Pierce could think to say. It was a good question. Getting the Hall, inviting 5000 newsies, some politicians, and even some celebrities was a lot for one boy to organize.

"To bad Isaac and them couldn't be here," someone stated, walking past them and into the building. He was referring to the four boys who had been arrested the day before for having a parade down Park Row without a license. The 100 or so newsies marching stopped when they were told to by police, but just started up again as soon as the officers were out of sight. This didn't go long unnoticed, for what the parade lacked in size, it made up for in noise.

"I don't see why _they're here," Collin muttered, nodding to a group of politicians with mezzanine seats to see the rally. "It's not like they're gonna help us any."_

"Shush up! It's startin'," Pierce suddenly put in, just in time to hear David thank everyone for coming. Introductions were made and a couple celebrities said that they were with the boys. Before David ran the voting that had to be done for the union to survive, Bob the Indian told everyone to stop hurting the police officers.

"That's fair," Collin commented to Pierce. "We leave them alone, they leave us alone."

"We also gots ta stop soakin' the scabs!" Kid Blink jumped in. This caused some talk among the newsboys.

"What are we sup'osta do ta the bums?" Racetrack yelled out.

"Leave 'em alone," Kid Blink said simply. "Beatin' up kids in the street is giving us a bad name."

"Can't get much worse!" Crutchy Morris called. Crutchy got his name because he was crippled and walked with a crutch. Being a real crip, not a fake like so many newsies were, helped him sell more papers usually. But then again, this wasn't "usually." 

Eventually it was decided that they would leave the police _and the scabs alone, except in self defense of course._

Later that night Kid Blink made a very good comment, "I'm trying to figure out how ten cents on hundred papers can mean more to a millionaire than it does to newsboys, and I can't see it." He was right. He knew it, the newsies knew it, even Pulitzer knew it. For Pulitzer and Hearst it was about pride. For the poor orphans like Collin, the runaways like Pierce, and the children just trying to help their working class families, it was about survival.

               For two whole weeks the Pierce and his friends didn't sell. While they were struggling, Pulitzer and Hearst were losing thousands of dollars. All that money, just to beat these mere boys out one lousy tenth of a cent. On August 2, 1899 a compromise was finally made. The price of the paper was still 6 cents for 10 papers, but the boys were given a 100% refund on all of their unsold papers.

"Get up! Get up! Make some money! Sell the papers!" 

Life is back to normal, Pierce thought as he pushed him self out of bed.


End file.
